False Prey: A Wildfire Novella (Wildfire Saga) by Marcus Richardson Page B
Authors: Marcus Richardson
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this town is doomed. Tell the world what they did to that poor man. I know he wasn’t a spy. Hell, everybody else did too. It’s just that fool Mosby enjoyed getting everyone all riled up—just like old times. And Billy Perkins, he just let him get away with it. They’ve always watched out for each other...”
“They’re friends?”
“More like brothers. Always getting into trouble together. Mostly drinking or girls. Both played football in high school, but Billy never went to college.” He coughed again, one hand gripping his chest, the other covering his mouth. Danny could see the man’s fingertips were starting to change from pink to light blue. “Mosby went off to school somewhere up north and never came back…”
Danny stuffed the handkerchief into his back pocket. He pulled out his notebook and pen and tried to record the words of the dying man. I can’t believe he’s getting this bad so fast. This thing is like the Blue Flu but it’s moving a lot faster. Hell, I’ve probably already caught it being so close to this guy. May as well get my job done while I’m at it. This is just the kind of angle I need to take this story to the major networks.
“You sure…you sure you’re getting this all down?” wheezed the motel owner.
Danny nodded without taking his eyes off the notebook. His pencil flew across the scraps of paper.
“Good,” whispered the dying man. He closed his eyes and seemed to be focusing more on breathing than anything else. As Danny finished writing, the man spoke one more time. “Don’t let the sons of bitches get away with it. I want no part of his death. I’m…” He started coughing again and Danny saw the telltale pink frothy foam emerge from his mouth. “Won’t be long now…”
Danny stood there dumbly, staring at the dying man holding his pencil at the ready in case he could say anything else. He wasn’t sure what to do. But he had to do something. “Did you see Mosby or Officer Perkins hurt Mr. Sang?”
“No…”
“Did you see anyone hurt him?”
The motel owner shook his head. “I was outside—but I heard your friend scream. Saw a lot of commotion. Too many people in front of me…”
“Did you see Mosby or Officer Perkins enter the room, then?”
“Yeah…both of ‘em. Billy Perkins shoved me out of the way…” He started coughing again and curled up tighter into a ball of misery on the vomit-covered floor. At last, he lifted his shaking hand once more. “Go on,” he gasped. “Get out of here before you catch it too. If it makes you feel better…clears your conscience…go find me an ambulance, too.” He tried to laugh again but was interrupted by another coughing fit. “But it won’t do me any good now…”
“I’m sorry,” said Danny. He took another step back and removed his handkerchief from his pocket. “I’ll go see if I can get help. Do you need anything?” He didn’t get a response. For a second he thought the man had already died, but then he saw the slow halting rise and fall of his chest. Danny quickly turned and made his way out to the parking lot.
Of course, the cops were gone now. Precisely when they were needed most. He paused at the front desk, and picked up the landline phone to dial 9-1-1. After explaining the situation to a very rude dispatcher, he hung up. He leaned around the open door, carefully keeping the handkerchief over his mouth, and said “Okay, an ambulance is on its way. Just try not to move or do anything that would make you start coughing again.” The man was still breathing, but was not responding anymore.
“Poor bastard,” Danny said to himself. “What the hell am I going to do now?” The sudden urge to breathe fresh air overpowered him. He practically ran out of the lobby, throwing the door open in front of him and stepped onto the gravel parking lot. He leaned back against the building and slapped at his
“They’re friends?”
“More like brothers. Always getting into trouble together. Mostly drinking or girls. Both played football in high school, but Billy never went to college.” He coughed again, one hand gripping his chest, the other covering his mouth. Danny could see the man’s fingertips were starting to change from pink to light blue. “Mosby went off to school somewhere up north and never came back…”
Danny stuffed the handkerchief into his back pocket. He pulled out his notebook and pen and tried to record the words of the dying man. I can’t believe he’s getting this bad so fast. This thing is like the Blue Flu but it’s moving a lot faster. Hell, I’ve probably already caught it being so close to this guy. May as well get my job done while I’m at it. This is just the kind of angle I need to take this story to the major networks.
“You sure…you sure you’re getting this all down?” wheezed the motel owner.
Danny nodded without taking his eyes off the notebook. His pencil flew across the scraps of paper.
“Good,” whispered the dying man. He closed his eyes and seemed to be focusing more on breathing than anything else. As Danny finished writing, the man spoke one more time. “Don’t let the sons of bitches get away with it. I want no part of his death. I’m…” He started coughing again and Danny saw the telltale pink frothy foam emerge from his mouth. “Won’t be long now…”
Danny stood there dumbly, staring at the dying man holding his pencil at the ready in case he could say anything else. He wasn’t sure what to do. But he had to do something. “Did you see Mosby or Officer Perkins hurt Mr. Sang?”
“No…”
“Did you see anyone hurt him?”
The motel owner shook his head. “I was outside—but I heard your friend scream. Saw a lot of commotion. Too many people in front of me…”
“Did you see Mosby or Officer Perkins enter the room, then?”
“Yeah…both of ‘em. Billy Perkins shoved me out of the way…” He started coughing again and curled up tighter into a ball of misery on the vomit-covered floor. At last, he lifted his shaking hand once more. “Go on,” he gasped. “Get out of here before you catch it too. If it makes you feel better…clears your conscience…go find me an ambulance, too.” He tried to laugh again but was interrupted by another coughing fit. “But it won’t do me any good now…”
“I’m sorry,” said Danny. He took another step back and removed his handkerchief from his pocket. “I’ll go see if I can get help. Do you need anything?” He didn’t get a response. For a second he thought the man had already died, but then he saw the slow halting rise and fall of his chest. Danny quickly turned and made his way out to the parking lot.
Of course, the cops were gone now. Precisely when they were needed most. He paused at the front desk, and picked up the landline phone to dial 9-1-1. After explaining the situation to a very rude dispatcher, he hung up. He leaned around the open door, carefully keeping the handkerchief over his mouth, and said “Okay, an ambulance is on its way. Just try not to move or do anything that would make you start coughing again.” The man was still breathing, but was not responding anymore.
“Poor bastard,” Danny said to himself. “What the hell am I going to do now?” The sudden urge to breathe fresh air overpowered him. He practically ran out of the lobby, throwing the door open in front of him and stepped onto the gravel parking lot. He leaned back against the building and slapped at his
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